


Fading Darkness

by AmanitaVirosa



Category: Forgotten Realms
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 08:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 5,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4130616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmanitaVirosa/pseuds/AmanitaVirosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after "Companion's Codex: Vengeance of the Iron Dwarf".  Artemis isn't feeling well, and Jarlaxle struggles with his priorities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is posted both on here (Ao3) and on FanFiction.net. I can no longer post on the frkinkmeme since the captcha changed to the animated "key captcha". I don't why all 3 of my browsers appear to have issues with it, but they do.

The road stretched out before them, the trees framing their path. The sun shone down, occasionally interrupted by the sparse cloud. Riding beside him on his own nightmare was Jarlaxle, humming the latest bawdy ballad he’d heard. The drow had been singing it earlier, but a few more curses and threats than usual being directed his way did eventually have the intended effect. Humming he could handle, he could tune it out for the most part. 

Artemis blinked his eyes, trying to dislodge the aching tiredness that seemed to be trying to creep in. Jarlaxle was preoccupied - humming while enjoying the scenery along the roadside – so he dared to let his eyes fall shut for a few moments. The movement of the nightmare under him was steady, and he found himself nearly being lulled to sleep. He snapped his eyes open; falling asleep while astride was not something he’d ever done, nor did he intend to start. 

A few minutes passed; they were still riding, Jarlaxle was still humming, still preoccupied. It would be another few hours before they reached the next town. He tried again, letting his eyes shut for the few blissful seconds of relief.

“Enjoying the sun, abbil?” Jarlaxle chuckled beside him. Artemis jerked and his eyes snapped open. For a moment the world didn’t make sense. He was up too high, he was moving but not moving, he…couldn’t remember what… Wasn’t Jarlaxle supposed to be over by the roadside? Wasn’t he humming just a second ago? An empathetic red eye observed him curiously.

“What?” he growled. They were still riding. 

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you so relaxed abbil.” Jarlaxle received a raised eyebrow as a response. He decided to press further. “You were snoring.”

“I do not snore.”

“I admit it was very lightly, but yes, you were snoring.”

“Jarlaxle…” Then the realization hit the assassin. If he had been snoring, it meant he’d been asleep. Asleep while riding. He cleared his throat. He eyed the drow beside him. That red eye showed some concern.

Neither one said anything for a while. Eventually, the assassin spoke.

“Thank you.” It came out rough, he wasn’t used to saying it. Neither of them thanked the other for very much, if at all. The comment of gratitude hung in the air for a moment, before Jarlaxle gave out a small, nervous chuckle.

“I couldn’t very well let you fall.”

The rest of the ride was quiet, but every now and then Artemis felt Jarlaxle watching him. Neither of them felt like talking about the danger of his accidental nap.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _italics_ = thoughts

The inn they decided to stop at was comfortable; it wasn’t lavish, but neither was it run down. The food had been moderate and inexpensive, allowing them to eat a decent meal before retiring upstairs.

Jarlaxle moved his affects around the room, fussing over their placement. He picked up his hat – the hat that Artemis hated – and set it down at a slightly different angle on the bed post. Thoughts about said assassin made the drow pause for a moment, and he snuck a glance towards his partner across the room. 

Said assassin was sitting on the edge of his bed, polishing his dagger. He looks normal. For all appearances to someone who didn’t know him, he did. To Jarlaxle, he didn’t. He observed with his peripheral how Artemis’ movements were slower than usual. Not by a large margin, but for one as attentive to detail as himself it was easy to spot.

They hadn’t talked about Artemis falling asleep on his nightmare. They both knew it was remarkably dangerous to fall asleep while riding even a normal horse. They both knew it was remarkably stupid to fall asleep while riding. Artemis wasn’t stupid. He picked up his hat again, suddenly dissatisfied by its placement, his fingers unconsciously wringing the edges.

Maybe it was time for a bit of a break. Maybe he needed to let his friend rest. Jarlaxle wasn’t oblivious to the fact that his partner was still – partially – human. He was bound to wear down sooner than the drow. Jarlaxle tried to ignore the nagging voice at the back of his head. _He’s human, he can’t live forever._ He argued back at his own fears. _He’s also part shade, he could live forever._

“This is a decent inn my friend. Not too shabby, comfortable, and the price is cheap.” He launched into persuasive mode. He was not about to travel with a partner that was too tired to stop himself from dangerous accidents. He flipped his hat atop his head with a flourish.

Artemis looked up at him. “Your point is?”

Jarlaxle grinned back at him. “That we should stay here a while, take a vacation! There are many lovely ladies here and –“

“And you won’t have to constantly watch me to make sure I don’t do something stupid again.”

The drow’s grin faded. “You are not a stupid man, abbil. You know the –“

“Yes! I know the dangers!” Artemis stood with a vicious glare at him from across the room. The man ran a hand through his hair, averting his eyes, before scrunching his face up momentarily. 

“Are you okay Artemis?” Jarlaxle leaned forward, not quite taking a step, but moving closer all the same. He wasn’t sure about Artemis’ mood right now.

Artemis grumbled and waved his hand in a shooing motion. “I’m fine, it’s just a headache.” It was quiet for a few moments before the assassin sighed, and Jarlaxle watched on his tip-toes. “If I don’t feel better tomorrow morning, I’ll agree to stopping for a bit. Deal?”


	3. Chapter 3

Artemis woke slowly, wrapped up in the blankets of the bed, and decently warm. He could hear Jarlaxle nearby though he didn’t seem to be moving, so Artemis was content to stay as he was.

Eventually, he opened his eyes and sat up, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed. He rubbed his hands over his face to help him wake up, his overnight beard growth scratching lightly.

“Morning Artemis.” Jarlaxle smiled at him from his relaxed position on the drow’s own bed, propped against the wall.

“Morning.” He stretched, twisting his neck first one way, then the other, as it popped on either side.

“How are you feeling?”

Artemis paused in his morning movements, and evaluated his state. “I’ve only just woken up, so it’s hard to say if I’m still tired or if it’s just the remnants from sleep.” He worked on his back next, arching his back slightly backwards as he turned and pressed on one side, feeling his spine pop successively up from his lower back towards his middle back. He repeated the motion for the other side, and sighed.

Jarlaxle grimaced at the human’s routine. He never did like how the man did that, particularly since it was audible to him across the room. He re-focused on the conversation, trying to ignore his friend’s waking routine. “And your headache?”

The assassin frowned. He did have a slight headache, but it wasn’t anything major. He looked over at Jarlaxle and sighed. The drow was expecting an honest answer, and he had agreed to provide such an answer last night. “It is slight, not very noticeable unless attention is called to it.”

“I see.” Artemis eyed Jarlaxle, and waited.   “So you would say you are not feeling entirely yourself yet?” Jarlaxle wore a winning grin aimed at his partner.

“I…” He trailed off, then sighed with a grumble attached. “No, I don’t quite feel entirely myself.” He growled from the inconvenience of being forced to stay put. _Now I get to stay here in –_ He paused his thoughts, and tried again, frowning minutely. _– here in.._ His scowl only deepened as his memory continued to hit a wall.

“You don’t need to look so sour about it my friend.” Jarlaxle tried to appease his partner who’s mood was quickly – if not already - fouling. “As I stated last night, the town has good food for not much money, and there are pretty ladies here if you should feel yourself so inclined.”

“I’m not –“ He stopped himself. Did he really want to tell Jarlaxle? Was it any of the drow’s damned business why he did or did not want to stay in…whatever the hell this town’s name was? He resisted a groan. His headache was back to where it had been last night. “Nevermind” he growled out.


	4. Chapter 4

The day passed uneventfully for Artemis. He lay on his stomach; keeping his head under the pillow, attempting to block out the majority of the standard sounds that inns accommodated. His head ached; he knew he was in a foul mood. Unfortunately – or perhaps because of – that didn’t stop his internal clock from letting him know how much time he was wasting laying in bed.

 He growled and cursed, ripping the pillow from over his head and hurling it across the room. It didn’t even have the decency to make a thud against the wall. He laid there for some time; glaring initially, then staring blankly at the wall, the floor, different objects around the room, that damned pillow. The window was too bright, and made his headache worse.

 Rolling onto his back, he huffed out a sigh. Physically he did still feel tired, and with his headache he would actually rather be asleep. He let his thoughts mull for a bit. If he were honest with himself, he was still bothered by his inability to recall the name of their location. That didn’t mean he was willing to let Jarlaxle know that, though. _Who knows, maybe old age is finally catching up with me._ His mouth pulled downwards into a scowl.

 Artemis grumbled as he got up and trudged over to his discarded pillow, bending down to pick it up. As he lifted it up, however, he stopped. He stood there, staring down at the hand that grasped the pillow for a long time.

 

_That can’t be right._


	5. Chapter 5

He started forward, dropping the pillow without a thought, and bee-lined to his pack beside his bed. A simple, but loose-fitting, white long-sleeved cotton shirt to cover his upper half, he hardly cared that he was wearing his well-worn tan sleep pants as he walked out of the room. His eyes swept to the right; up the hall, no Jarlaxle. He turned to the left; the hallway was empty. Artemis growled. _Where the hell is the damned drow when I actually want him around?_

Stalking forward towards the common room, he honestly wished his partner would appear at the top of the stairs before he reached them.   It was not to be. The assassin glared at the descending stairs to the common room, internally eyeing them with a measure of hesitation. He could get down them of course; the problem was he could already fell his energy waning, the headache exerting pressure from the inside out. He wasn’t sure how much farther his adrenaline would carry him. At the same time, he hated himself for considering the stairs to be even a little daunting.

He stayed at the top of the stairs looking down. He wanted to find Jarlaxle; wanted to ask if the drow saw the same thing Artemis himself did, or if he was just imagining it due to the headache. He was also rather stubborn, even to his own mind, at the continued insistence that it was ‘just a headache’. So he struggled with himself for a bit, debating between his three options.

First; he could suck it up and go down the stairs, hope Jarlaxle was there and then somehow manage to drag himself back up the stairs to their room. Granted he could just sit at a table to wait for him, but if he was waiting, he’d rather be somewhere quiet. He’d also left his coin purse back in the room, and if he was going to go back, he might as well do the second option.

Second; he could go back to the room and wait for Jarlaxle’s inevitable return…whenever that would be. The boon of this option was he could try and get some rest while he waited. The downfall was Jarlaxle could come and leave again without him waking if he did sleep.

Third; he could wait here at the top of the stairs. That way he could catch Jarlaxle’s attention if he came close enough, but not have to endeavor to climb back up the stairs. The downside to this is it meant he’d be standing or sitting at the top of the stairs for an unknown amount of time. It wouldn’t be an issue if it only ended up being a few minutes, but if it was any longer he’d start to feel rather stupid waiting for him here.

Artemis was rocking back onto his heels, when he spotted a fourth option walking down the hall.

“Boy. Come here for a moment.” He gestured the young man over, altering his outward disposition to something more benign and friendly. “I need to ask a favour of you, if I may.” He gestured down the stairs with a touch of disgruntled acceptance. Here he waited until the man was closer.

“What is it sir?” If Artemis hadn’t been looking to gain a favour from him, he would have felt awkward at having such a naïve innocent approach him. Sighing mentally, he refocused on getting what he wanted from this…man? Boy? He was somewhere in the middle maybe, not quite matured.

“I have a travelling companion that has disappeared from our room while I was recovering some sleep. I need to talk to him, but I do not have the energy to get back up these stairs if I go down and he isn’t there.” So far so good, the young man looked interested still. Time to test how interested. “He’s a very flamboyant individual. A drow, with an eyepatch and a monstrosity of a hat.”

“So he should be easy to spot then.” Artemis nodded, relieved. “I’ll go down and look right now, and I’ll come back and let you know if he isn’t there.” He was surprised by the generosity of the man-boy, but bowed his head slightly, grateful.

“Thank you.”

He watched as he descended down the stairs quickly, disappearing from his sight as the world around him seemed to tilt slightly. He corrected his balance with some effort, still refusing to acknowledge that he perhaps should have just stayed in bed.


	6. Chapter 6

When Jaraxle saw the boy approaching him with determined strides, he stood from his chair, slapped on his charming grin and greeted the boy when he was still a few feet away with a flourish of his hat. At being made aware of Artemis’ involvement in the boy’s errand, that grin faltered just slightly as he thanked him before dropping a few coins on the table – one into the boy’s hand – and sweeping across the inn’s common room towards the stairs. On seeing his partner standing at the top of the stairs – not looking very stable on his feet – he walked as quickly as he might run, before draping an arm that for all appearances was casual as he led the stubborn human back to their room. It wasn’t until they were back in their inn room, with the door shut, that the grin dropped along with the casualness.

Jarlaxle continued to watch Artemis as the man sat down on his bed, and seemed to all but sink into it. “If you were intending on saying you are feeling better, I’m afraid I am inclined to disagree.” He crossed his arms across his chest, and heard his partner give out a small snort in response. He waited for another few minutes, but nothing else appeared to be forthcoming. So he sat down on the edge of his own bed, facing Artemis.

 An arm lifted up, and a hand was held out in his direction. The drow scrunched his eyebrows together, not understanding the man’s gesture.

 A few more seconds passed before Artemis spoke, his hand still out, palm down. “Look.”

 “At your hand?”

 “Yes, my hand. What else would I be referring to?” The assassin snapped at him, lifting his head from its bowed position to glare at the drow.

 Jarlaxle held up his own hands in the placating gesture. “Alright, alright.” He stood and walked the few steps to get close enough to look. He peered down at his partner’s hand.

 At first, he didn’t understand why he was looking at Artemis’ hand. It only took a few seconds, however, to take note that there was something very different about it. The skin on his hand was two different colours. Furthermore, it appeared to extend from his fingertips to his wrist. It wasn’t an even split of colour; it was splotchy, like someone had put a coat of something over his hand and then had tried to wipe it off. His normal skin tone – the sun-kissed skin typical of Calishites with the grey undertone – continued on unblemished after his wrist. The splotches were...moving? He leaned closer, face only a few inches away. _They are moving._ The edges of the splotches seem to dance, waxing and waning, but mostly growing in how much of Artemis’ hand they covered.

 “Abbil?” He looked up at Artemis’ face, curious and unsettled. Slightly tired, but still-sharp grey eyes looked back at him.

 Artemis lowered his arm, still holding his hand up as he himself looked at it. “It’s my skin tone.”

 “Pardon?”

 “My skin tone before the shade, Jarlaxle.” The human’s eyes flicked back up to the drow’s and held them.


	7. Chapter 7

“Open your mouth, and say Ah.”

 With a grumble and a sideways glare in Jarlaxle’s direction, he complied. Knowing what was coming, however, didn’t stop him from instinctively recoiling when the wooden swab stick touched his tongue.

 “Easy there, just a bit longer and…done. You can close your mouth now.” The man in the doctor’s coat turned and placed the wooden swab in a clean container, sealing it tightly. Artemis briefly glared at his back, before turning and directing his distaste towards the drow that had summoned the blasted man.

 “Alright, I’ll return to my office and run what I’ve taken through some tests. I should be back with the results in a day or so.” The doctor gathered up his supplies, along with the container with the swab and a few vials of blood before turning and making his exit.

 Once the door was shut, silence reigned in the room. Artemis sulked where he sat on his bed, while Jarlaxle idly twirled his thumbs.

 The silence was broken by a grumble from Artemis. Jarlaxle lifted his head up to look at his disgruntled partner.

 “Yes abbil?” A glare was shot his way with renewed intensity.

 “I hate you.” It was more muttered than anything else. Jarlaxle sighed.

 “A necessary evil abbil.” The man growled.

 “I still don’t like it.” Another mutter.

 With a huff, the drow stood and crossed the room to sit beside the man. “Let me see?” He phrased it as a question for his own safety. Forcing the irritable man to agree to let a doctor examine him had been…nearly impossible. His case hadn’t been helped when the doctor had demanded a full physical in order to yield accurate results. He was glad he had confiscated Artemis’ weapons before the doctor arrived. _Not that it made things any easier._

 An unintelligible grumble, and the man obliged. The drow’s lips thinned as he looked over his partner’s hands. It had only been two days since Artemis had initially shown him, and his hands had already almost entirely reverted to his original skin tone. Worse, the ‘breaking’ as Jarlaxle had termed it, had now extended past his wrists to halfway up his forearms. Initially, Jarlaxle had thought that they still had time, as it was only starting with his hands. That was until Artemis had shown him it was also working up from his feet too. His legs were now ‘breaking’ at just below mid-calf.

“How’s your memory, khal abbil?” He spoke softly, his own discomfort at the situation coming through.

“Mostly the names of places are what I’m having difficulty with.” Artemis also spoke softly, unsettled by what was becoming his reality. A short pause ensued. “Some names too.”

“Names?”

“The…” a frustrated-sounding huff, and he went quiet.

“Names, or people?” The man grumbled, hanging his head.

“Mostly places, some names, some people.”

“Artemis..”

“I can vaguely recall the people. But anytime I try to focus on them, it’s like they…slip.”

“Ah.” He tentatively lifted his arm around the man’s shoulders, subtly pulling them closer.

For as much as he’d always considered relying on someone else weak before, right now he was grateful for the drow’s attempts at comfort. He still felt tired, and the drow was warm. Hesitantly, cautiously, he let his head rest on Jarlaxle’s shoulder. The drow responded with a gentle squeeze to his shoulder, pulling him in a little closer.

“Jarlaxle?” His throat felt tight. He wasn’t used to feeling this.

“Yes khal abbil?”

“You’ll fix me…right?”

Jarlaxle was silent for a moment. “I’ll do everything I can, my friend. Believe me.” He pulled Artemis a little closer to him, holding him a little tighter.

Artemis tried to relax, even just a bit. 

 

…But he was scared.


	8. Chapter 8

The doctor had come back, with some unpleasant news. His verdict had come as a ‘rapid deterioration of both physical and mental capabilities’. While neither of them were pleased with the news, it made complete, and terrible sense. With the supporting factor for the human’s extended lifespan fading, his body was struggling to maintain itself under a sudden amount of intense stress. The point had been driven home when Artemis’ legs had given out from under him, and his arms had followed suit when he’d tried to catch himself.

Jarlaxle delicately went over to his smarting companion on the floor, and slowly helped him over to his bed. He observed as his friend winced with any movement of either his arms or legs, and with care sat beside him.

“You’re in pain, can I help?” The drow watched as a grimace of distaste washed over the now ex-assassin’s face. “I know you don’t like this situation, but I can’t very well help if you don’t let me.”

The man sighed. “I..-“ He stopped, seeming to struggle with sharing the source of his discomfort. His head bowed, and turned just slightly away, as though to shield sight of his face. “- they snapped.”

“What snapped?” Jarlaxle tilted his head slightly to the side, and scanned his companion. The way he shielded his face, the bow of his head, his shoulders, arms – _Ah, I see._ He looked down towards Artemis’s legs, and grimaced himself.

He pulled off his hat, rustling through it until he pulled out the healing orb. Setting his hat back upon his head, he held up the orb before pausing. “Which limb do you want me to heal first?” He was grateful he had a second healing orb in his hat, though he wondered now if it would be adequate. _Did his calves break from simply holding his own weight, or from the impact of the fall?_ His arms would indicate the fall, but that wasn’t a guarantee.

“Legs first.” It came out muttered, but still somehow slightly polite. Jarlaxle imagined he might have heard a bit of a plea in there, but couldn’t hold it against the man. He didn’t envy the amount of pain he could only guess his partner was experiencing.

With a nod, he carefully moved himself off the bed and in front of Artemis’ legs. Gingerly, he took hold of the left leg, pulling up the little of the pants that went below the knee over it. Hearing the nearly inaudible hiss of breath come from the man, he raised the healing orb and activated its healing magic. At first, he wasn’t sure if the orb was doing anything, but then slowly, surely, he watched the calf begin knitting itself back together under the skin.

* ***** *

* * *

* ***** *

It took nearly a half hour – much longer than it should have taken – to heal the one leg. In addition, the ‘breaking’ had almost seemed at war over his calf; both the shade infused skin and original skin seeming to fight for dominance at a much faster rate than usual. Jarlaxle drew a kerchief from his pocket and wiped it across his forehead. The strain was both unexpected and worrying.

He could feel the eyes of the human on the top of his head.

“I need to rest a bit before I can do your other leg, my friend. I’m sorry.” _Sorry?_ He had caught himself off guard with his apology, but in looking at the man, understood why he had uttered it. The man’s face looked drawn from pain and exhaustion. Likely having to wait before his other leg could be healed _and I haven’t even gotten to his arms yet_ was one of the last things the ex-assassin wanted to hear.

Even so, Artemis simply nodded, before slowly leaning back and contracting his abdominal muscles to lower his torso onto the bed. It seemed the man intended to try and rest himself, despite his broken bones. With a frown, Jarlaxle waited until he could hear the barely audible snores before silently consuming a potion of invigoration.

Counting to three in his head, he started on Artemis’ right leg. He decided it was going to be a long, long day.


	9. Chapter 9

It had been a few days since the broken limbs incident. Jarlaxle had managed to heal all four limbs, though with considerable effort. To avoid another such situation, Artemis had been confined to bed rest while the drow searched for some sort of cure. Each time Jarlaxle had returned, he had felt the human’s eyes on him, and each time he’d simply shaken his head silently in response. He’d found nothing, not one hint or even a partial hint of anything that could even just stop this. He’d ordered Kimmuriel and all his mercenaries out on a search for the answer, not caring about costs or appearances at the moment. For every day that passed without an answer, or a hint, it felt like a little more of his friend was slipping away.

He watched the man with his peripheral. _He looks even more miserable today._ The drow rubbed at his temples, wracking his brain for anything that could even marginally help. The worst part of this stalemate of information; he could swear he could see Artemis’ memory fading along with the shade’s influence. A few times he’d caught an almost blank look directed at him, though so far a spark of recognition still seemed to be present. It was worrying, immensely. 

Silence reigned for the day, as it had taken to doing these last few days. Jarlaxle had been thinking he should check in with Kimmuirel, to see if there had been any progress yet. It would be the latest of many such calls to his lieutenant. As he reached for the whistle, however, he hesitated. The last time Kimmuriel had been irate, claiming that if he wanted the psionic drow to assist, then he needed to stop interrupting said lieutenant every few hours. 

He let his hand fall to his lap again, wringing his hands together. He glanced at his friend again, checking in on him as frequently as he dared. Artemis was looking back, his eyes tired, his expression drawn. Then the man shifted his gaze back to the ceiling, before letting his eyes drift shut.

 

The rest of the day passed without a word.


	10. Chapter 10

It was better to not attempt to focus on anything, he was finding. Anything he tried to focus on, slipped away. He couldn’t remember how many years he had been travelling with Jaralxle. Couldn’t remember why he had become slightly irate at the mention of Jarlaxle’s lieutenant, and now failed to become irate at all. That lieutenant meant nothing now, whoever he was. It was maddening and depressing at the same time; to recognize both that he was losing his memory, and to have a faint inclination that he had already forgotten a great deal. 

Also in the same category of maddening and depressing, was his near immobility. He knew how he wanted to move, how to make his body respond to his demands, yet every movement was so…weak. His muscles, once strong and able, were now weak to the point where it tired him so very much to even lift his arm. Added to this, was even if he did manage to force his body to obey, it came at an exponentially increasing risk of damage.

He glanced over at Jarlaxle, the drow who was staying at his side, and tried to ignore that he was beginning to forget why the drow wore that eyepatch. Tried to ignore that he was beginning to forget who he himself was.

“Jarlaxle.” His voice was weak, he wanted to go back to sleep. Still, he saw his partner focus on him.

“Artemis. What is it? Have you thought of anything?” Something seemed off with the drow’s expression and tone. Didn’t fit right, didn’t _shouldn’t_ belong to him. _He shouldn’t be like this. It doesn’t suit him._ A moment later. _Why?_

He had a feeling that what he wanted to say next was not going to go over well, but he was having trouble remembering why. 

“My dagger. I want my dagger.” He watched as his partner’s expression froze, even if just for an instant.

“Why do you want that my friend?” The expression was cheerful, but questioning at the same time. _I thought it was obvious…maybe not?_

“I’m not going to get better. We both know this.” A feeling of something missing-lost. “Not this time.” That felt better, he assumed it was something common between them. 

“Of course you are! I have all my connections working on finding a cure abbil! We’ll –“

“There is no cure.” He felt agitated, didn’t the drow get it? It should be as plain as day! “This isn’t a sickness Jarlaxle. This isn’t some cold or even a disease. This is time. My body is long past its expiration date and the only thing keeping it from turning to dust right now is whatever remnants of the shade remain in me.” He glowered, frustrated at his situation, and directing some of the anger towards the wilting drow beside him.

Silence. The drow opened his mouth, closed it, and scrunched up his face in a pained expression.

He sighed. “You know this, Jarlaxle.”

“I won’t let you turn to dust! I’ll find another shade and I’ll bring it here!” Jarlaxle stood, visibly trembling. His hands clenched into fists, his voice raised.

His voice was calm, steady, sure. He knew the truth of it. Knew Jarlaxle knew it as well. “There are no more shades. They left. They’re gone.”

“No.” A small voice; weak, nearly a whimper. A pang of sadness rang through him at the tone. _I can’t live forever._

“Bring me my dagger Jarlaxle.” 

The drow shifts, turning his head to look away from him. A petulant voice.

“No.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

He stared sullenly at the bed his companion lay in. After Artemis had made that thrice damned request for his dagger _that I refused_ things had devolved into a massive argument. An argument that had strained his already impossibly fragile health. After the hacking and wheezing coughs had finished wracking their way through his failing body, the man had slipped into an unrestful slumber. An unnaturally long slumber. It had been 3 days, and he still had yet to wake back up. 

He watched the agonizingly slow rise of his friend’s chest - trembling and minute in its effort – and the equally tremulous exhale that followed. Nothing. Kimmuriel had found nothing, not even another shade to drag to his bedside. Jarlaxle dropped his head to glare at the floor. Artemis looked so…skeletal. He hated that word, hated its implications. The once deadly strong muscles that wrapped his frame had withered, his cheeks and eyes sunken, the lips pulled taught and thinned. Nearly every tendon and joint was visible to see, his skin so thin their raised impressions like some great map over his body.

The drow’s hand curled tighter around the jewelled dagger in his hand. 

_One more time. Let him wake one more time and I’ll-_ He hated this. Hated giving in, giving up. This wasn’t right! Surely they could fix this - his eyes strayed to the struggling form of the man that grew to mean so much to him. 

He stared sullenly at the bed his friend lay in.

.

.

.

_Let me say goodbye, at least._


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

His eyes opened, his sight blurry. A great colourful being hovered over him. He blinked a few more times, slowly, weakly. The vision cleared enough he could see details on this black skinned _person’s?_ face. 

His voice resisted use. He strained, felt something let go, felt his throat flood with liquid. He managed to garble out his question to the now teary-eyed being above him. _Don’t cry._

His body trembled as he tried to reach up to brush away the wetness on its _his_ face. His hand did not move. He tried again, body wracking with tremors. _I don’t want to see you cry. I don’t like to see you cry._

His body would not move. 

A tear landed on his face as his world faded.

_Don’t go._

He struggled to stay, to see that person again.

His body floated, painless.

He never heard them whisper goodbye.

He never felt the dagger slip between his already decomposing ribs.

He never felt the cascade of tears that streaked down their face and landed on his.

Never felt the clinging, grasping hold of their arms wrapped around him as they cried.

But still, he wanted to know.

_Who are you?_


End file.
